


Rivers

by Anthracene



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abduction, Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Childhood Trauma, Creampie, Crying, Dark, Dissociation, Forced Orgasm, Fucked Up, Grooming, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Sexual Slavery, Spitroasting, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-06-23 21:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthracene/pseuds/Anthracene
Summary: Richard accidentally pays his old teacher a visit.





	1. Chapter 1

“..... Here goes nothing.”

Richard tightens his fist and gives three loud knocks on the door.

He waits.

And waits.

He feels his hands getting cold and clammy on him the second his knuckles hit wood. Heavy, sinking dread fills his lungs with each passing second, until eventually even the act of breathing starts to hurt. The longer he waits there, the more Richard wonders how he manages to even stay upright with just how much the sheer anxiety is getting to him.

He doesn't know what he's so scared of, really. In all these years of passing by this particular house, he had never seen him again, not even once. In fact, he hadn't seen _anyone_ leave or enter it since that time ten years ago. The house is eerie, dark, and desolate always—even at night. There’s just no way that anyone would still be living here, especially after all this time. 

It’s been a decade. A lot could happen since then. Between never seeing him again even once, and the obvious signs of neglect surrounding the house, Richard’s almost certain that the bastard had to have already moved by now. Maybe he’s not in the same state, or even the same country, anymore—and Richard was just working himself up all for nothing. Maybe he’s already up and died since then, even.

Yet, despite having had all this time to process, to let go and move on, Richard... doesn’t. During the daytime, his heart clenches painfully in his chest whenever he catches sight of the house in his peripheral. He's hyperaware of his surroundings constantly, wondering and worrying if he'll ever come across the older man when he least expects it. He can't leave his house without carrying mace on his person, though even that brings little relief. Nights are no less terrifying for him either, when instead of his heart it's his mind that takes turns tormenting him—with nightmares of this place, rehashed from old memories after they're warped and twisted enough beyond comprehension—until he wakes up clutching the nearest pillow, screaming. If anything, the more time passes the worse he feels it eats away at him; Richard finds himself constantly exhausted from the back-to-back barrage of stressful days and sleepless nights, and he knows that the combined effects of the two only work to exacerbate each other over the years.

The only thing that remotely helps him nowadays is taking his father’s straight razor to his thighs. Never the _inside_ , mind you—he doesn’t have a death wish, after all—but thin, long slices to his outer thighs; just enough to get him through the day. The nature of his demanding career doesn’t allow him to lose himself to alcohol, and the last thing he really needs on top of already being stupid is _being useless_. In addition to that, cutting is the one release he can always count on when his emotions overwhelm him; he could practically feel the years of bubbled up anger, guilt, and self-loathing physically released whenever the blood flows out from his thighs. These past few years, Richard’s turned to harming himself more and more as a way to cope with the pent up trauma. It almost goes hand-in-hand now; when the nightmares, the panic attacks, inevitably come, so too does the straight razor from out of his pocket.

He knows he can’t keep living like this forever, though. The more he gives in, the more he has to take away later, and the worse he'll feel after either way. He feels himself running out of too much too fast—options; patience; unmarred flesh in his thighs. If he doesn’t do something soon, he’s going to lose it entirely.

But what else can he possibly do?

What else... _but confirm for himself that the worst is already over?_

That's why Richard finds himself here now, at the front door of the house from his nightmares. He can make all the excuses, rationalize his disappearance all he wants, but at the end of the day he has to see it for himself to believe it. It's the only way he knows that will give him the peace of mind he so desperately needs.

And he _needs_ it, badly. 

Richard stares at the splintered wooden door in front of him. He knows he’s just being paranoid at this point. As always he can’t see any lights, any signs of life from the battered old windows of the house, yet he feels as if Rivers is going to burst through that door at any second and surprise him. But even at the height of his anxiety he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now; that's why it only makes him even more determined to see this through. 

The longer he waits there, though, the more he can feel the edges of a panic attack start to creep on him as he waits.

Maybe… maybe he really should just leave. Turn away from this wretched old house and never look back—because the old bastard has to have moved already by now, right? It’s been 10 years; how old would Rivers even be now, anyways? He really shouldn't need to prove anything like this, even to himself. It’s perfectly normal to assume that he could have left within that span of time, if it weren't already obvious by the house's neglected state. How long is he going to wait at the door before he’s satisfied with the obvious answer glaring at him? Richard has to accept that this may be the best resolution he’s ever going to get. If he just can get his brain to accept that no one lives here anymore, then he never has to keep doing this to himself.

Richard sucks in a deep breath. _No._ It’s been 10 years. A full decade of letting this win over him for so long. What's a couple more minutes to him anyways? He has to learn to get a grip on himself. He has to see this through.

If not now, _then when?_

Against the thrum of his raging anxieties, Richard continues to wait.

...

After waiting for ten entire minutes at the door, even he's decides he's given it long enough. He starts by prying his hand away from the door, slowly. He urges the rest of his body to follow suit but it refuses to budge at first, locked joints still much too stiff from the sheer anxiety. He lets out a long drawn-out sigh before softly smiling, then laughing despite himself. He was right to have come here: all these years, and it was all just in his head. That old bastard Rivers is gone—probably has been for a while now—and there really was nothing else for him to see here. Just an empty, rundown house that can't hurt him anymore. And now that he's went all this way to confirm it, he knows for sure that the worst is finally over. He takes a deep breath and hugs himself, practically melting under the new, warm bliss of relief that warms the very core of his body.

It's over. His nightmares are finally _over_ now.

He breathes yet another sigh of relief. It's getting late, he realizes, and there's really no use in staying out here for any longer. Richard pulls out his phone to quickly check the time.

8:51 PM; _7 unread messages from Katie_.

Ah, _that's right;_ he never told her his change of plans, did he? Richard feels a pang of guilt at that, especially after scrolling through a few of her strongly worded texts from his lock screen. He had meant to at least let her know he was going to come over late tonight, but he had gotten so caught up in his head over all this that he must've forgotten. Not that he could ever tell Katie that _this_ was where he was; she'd probably kill him, then freak, then kill him again for being so brash and stupid. But it doesn't matter, anyways; none of it matters anymore. After tonight, he can apologize and properly explain everything. 

  
But before he can even attempt to even turn himself around, the brass knob suddenly twists from below his line of vision. In his shock, his phone tumbles from out of his hands and smacks face down onto the pavement. Richard never gets the chance to pick it back up as his eyes lock with the familiar set of gray ones from behind the door. 

“Hey,” the older man greeted curtly. “Somethin' I can help you with?”

No.

_No._

**_No way._**

All the color drains from him upon seeing the face before him. His knees buckle from underneath him, and it takes everything within him not to scream. 

He can’t help it. He can't. _He can’t._ He hasn’t seen him in so long— _wasn’t expecting to see him ever again—_ that seeing Rivers again like this hits Richard _hard_ in a way he could never prepare for.

It doesn’t matter that the older man himself seems to have forgotten all about him. Standing here, face-to-face with his childhood abuser, Richard feels ridiculously small. Trapped. _Helpless_. As if he’s 13 again and not 23, here to offer his preadolescent body for the twisted love and attention of a monster.

He could feel his breakfast starting to come back up. If he’s ever felt the _desperate_ , _gnawing urge_ to take his razor through his thighs, _**it would definitely be now—**_

“... You alright there?”

Richard opens his mouth to respond, but no words tumble out. He stammers, lips parting and closing like he’s a fish out of water gasping for air, and the only thing that manages to slip out in the end is a choked off little cry. He turns around sharply without thinking, intent on sprinting away and never coming back, when he feels a hand tightly grip his shoulder from behind.

“Now _hold on_ a minute _,_ babyface...”

Richard yelps as Rivers forcibly turns him back around to face him. He stares into him for a good long minute, cocking his head as a slow, devious smile spreads across his face.

“ _Noo,_ don’t tell me…” the older man drawled, eyes gleaming with a mix of recognition, amusement, and something much more sinister. _Predatory_.

“ _Richard?_ ”

He freezes.

_“ Richard Carson?_ ”

He knows he should just. Shrug the hand off his shoulder. Reach for the mace in his pocket. _Run_. Something other than the pitiful way he stands now—stock still, with his eyes wide and muscles locked in place, like a frightened deer caught in the headlights.

But he just… _can’t._

He knows.

_He knows._

“Well _I'll be_ ,” he grins, chuckling gruffly. “Richard!” The older man slaps one hand firm on his back, making Richard nearly jumps out of his skin. If Rivers notices this of him he ignores it, in favor of rubbing his back with the hand that holds him in place. 

“What a pleasant surprise. _Boy_ , look how you’ve grown." Rivers takes his other arm and holds Richard close to him, taking advantage of his petrified state to lock him in a cruel parody of a hug. "My little star student, comin’ back to see your old man after getting all tall and handsome on me all these years."

“I’m glad, y’know,” Rivers slowly leans his head forward to whisper his next words into his ear, eyes dark and voice dripping with lecherous desire. 

“I thought I was the only one. I’ve _really_ missed you too, _Dick._ ”

No.

No, no, _no, **no, no!**_

Richard shakes his head. This was a mistake. _A huge, **huge** mistake_. He should have never stepped foot here. He should have just minded his own damn business. _What the hell was he even thinking?!_ This is exactly what he gets for being so stupid; he just had to be stupid, so _stupid_ , and now—

Now he’s hyperventilating. Simultaneously drawing too much yet too little air into his system, and on the very cusp of mentally breaking down in the arms of the older man. His head feels too light, too detached from the rest of his heavy, trembling body. This can't be real. This can't be happening. He’s gotta be dreaming right now, stuck in of one of his nightmares, because _this just cannot be happening to him._

"Oh? What's wrong?" The older man leaned back to take a better look at him, mock concern written all over his expression. "You look a little sick there. Why don't you come on in and let ol' Mr. Rivers take care of you?"

_Sick_. It’s a bit of an understatement, given how close Richard feels himself to fainting at the moment. But, even in all his hysteria, he realizes that’s he’s been handed an out—he just needs to use it well enough _so he can finally run and get the hell away from there._

"Ah... that's right..." Richard says, words barely a whisper as he struggles to keep himself calm. Roll with it. _Play along_. "I... I think I might be coming down with something, sir. I-it's fine, though, don't want to get you sick or anything... so I'll just—"

He tries prying himself off the older man and screams when he's suddenly yanked even closer than before. The older man grips him tightly by his shirt collar, scowling.

“Oh? That's new. _You've never tried runnin' away from **me** before._"

All of a sudden there's _pain_ —searing and white hot, radiating from the side of his neck throughout his entire body in a flash. Richard would have screamed, were it not for every muscle in his body seizing up and painfully contracting on itself a million times a minute. The pain is intense, vibrating his very being with an animosity unlike anything he's ever known, and he blissfully passes out just a second before the older man lets go.

"Now," Rivers chuckles, sliding away the little taser back into his pocket. He kicks the forgotten phone into the curb along with the other trash piled on there, before heaping the crumpled body onto his shoulders and heading back inside. "Let's try that again, okay?" 

"You look a little sick there, Dick. Why don't you just come on in _and let ol' Mr. Rivers take care of you..._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me on tumblr! https://mothballs-and-benzene.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion between a former student and his middle school teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please mind all of the new tags for this work; this chapter is much more intense than the first. 
> 
> Many thanks to my husband for alpha- and beta-reading this piece of work ❤️

He’s floating. 

A detached, dreamy sensation that leaves him unsure if he’s even alive in that moment. 

His ears are buzzing, obscuring the sounds that would otherwise reach them. His eyes are wide open, but he can’t understand just what he’s seeing. All the while, he can vaguely make out touches on him—pressing against his body, sliding against his skin. 

His lips part to say something, but he doesn’t recognize any of the words that tumble out of him.

Everything feels... so far away, for some reason. It’s almost as if his brain is not quite attached to the rest of him: aware of all of these sensory inputs, but nothing to process any of it with. He feels himself lost—deep in a haze so thick it suffocates him. Through this fog he could feel himself peering down at a body that is simultaneously his and not his. Lying inside a body that is simultaneously his and not his. His head spins between these two perspectives, over and over, and it isn’t long before the rest of the room is spinning along with him. 

_I must be dreaming_ , he figures. It must be a dream. What else could it be otherwise, unless of course he’s—

He never even finishes that train of thought before it is pulled out from under him. Richard is suddenly made aware of a warm, wet heat enveloping in between his legs—a sensation so foreign, it's enough to snap him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. It pulls him up, up, and out of the thick mental haze and, in a moment, he’s back to himself in a flash.

... Something is not right. He’s panting, reeling as the rest of the feeling in his body comes in much too hot, much too quickly for comfort. His head pounds, as swift and erratic as the heart hammering away in his ribcage. His stomach is in knots. 

Springing his eyes open, Richard ignores the burn of the lights as he turns his head downwards, towards the source of the sensation. 

“There you are,” Rivers smiles, wolfish. Predatory. “Nice of you to finally join us, Dick.”

Below him, he sees Rivers sitting comfortably on his knees. The mattress is dipped beneath the weight of both their bodies as the older man is nestled right in between Richard’s trembling thighs. A fine thread of saliva hangs from his former teacher's lips down to Richard’s own cock, which Rivers thumbs with one hand. 

“You gave me quite the scare there, Dick—with your eyes wide open like that and nobody home! For a minute, I was worried I'd have dragged a corpse right into my bed. Wouldn’t want our precious reunion to be spoiled by somethin’ like that now, do we?”

Scrambling to get away, Richard yelps when he finds that—to his horror—he’s in fact unable to. His wrists and ankles refuse to budge an inch from where they remain, fastened tightly to each of the bedposts surrounding him. It hits him right then and there just what position he’s in: tied up and spread eagled on Rivers' bed. 

Naked.

He suppresses the urge to vomit when he feels a hand on his bare thigh, slithering down towards his ankle.

"Oh, you do have to forgive me for this, though," his former teacher says, voice dripping with mock pity. Rivers traces the flesh underneath the thick rope, gently rubbing it with the flat of his fingers as if to soothe the chafed skin beneath it. 

"Didn't want to have to be so rough like this. Not on our first day back together, anyway," he chuckles, licking his lips. "Pity. But I really have no other choice, Dick. Wouldn't want you runnin' away on me again, after all. Not before we get to the _fun part."_

"Please, sir..." Richard whispers. He feels small, so ridiculously small, spread out before Rivers and reduced to begging like this. Like he's 13 again, on the same bed, except this time there's absolutely no sane part of him that wants this. He takes a shuddering breath, lips quivering as he's on the verge of crying. "Please, please just let me go..." 

"Let you go? After all this time?" Rivers tuts, shaking his head. He's grinning from ear to ear, clearly amused, as his steel grey eyes meet Richard's soft brown ones. "Now why would I do that?"

"It's been far too long since we've played together, Dick. _I’ve missed you.”_

The former teacher takes Richard’s balls in one hand and his cock in the other. He fondles them as he strokes his former student off—slow and gentle.

“And by the looks of things, seems as though you miss your old man, too," he smirks, eyeing the half-hard cock he already has in his hand. "Is _that_ why you've come back, after all these years?”

_"No!"_ Richard practically shouts, trembling. He can’t help but writhe on the bed from Rivers touch, disgust washing over him as he feels the faintest flickers of arousal building within him. "No, stop… I... I don't want this... please.."

"You don't, do you?" Without any warning, he takes the cock in his hand and wraps his lips around it, earning a choked gasp from the young man. He wastes no time, swirling his tongue all around the head, the shaft—doing clever things with his mouth that has Richard all but squirming. He swallows the rest of it in one swift motion, down to the hilt, and sucks him down until he could feel his former student twitching in the back of his throat.

With a loud smack of his lips, Rivers pulls Richard out of his mouth, just as quickly as he's sucked him down. He licks the saliva slathered all over Richard's member. 

“Mm... Fuck," Rivers moans, lapping up the precum that beads at the tip. "You always were a naughty little liar, Dick—but I can always count on _this_ part of you to be honest, can't I?”

Richard shakes his head, blinking away tears. He could barely process everything that was happening to him, let alone why his traitorous body was responding in such a way. He knows he doesn't want any part of this. He doesn't.

_He doesn't._

And yet despite everything tells himself, here he is: clearly reacting as if he did. Inconceivably, undeniably _erect_ , just from being molested by his middle school teacher. 

“Do you remember all those times we’ve played ‘Doctor’ together? How you used to fake tummy aches for me, just to get a dose of my _special medicine_ after school?” Rivers chuckles. He unzips his pants, pulling out his own cock out while remaining almost entirely clothed otherwise. 

“You really were just a little slut even back then, weren’t you?”

Richard shuts his eyes. “I was only a child…! You took advantage of me!”

He's shaking. Anger, fear, shame, guilt—visceral waves of emotion, boiled and bubbled all into one. He says this, but deep down Richard knows the blame is only his, for falling for it in the first place. For giving in. He carries that blame everyday, hates himself everyday for it. 

The scars on his outer thighs are a testament to that.

"... I didn't... know... I didn't know any better..." 

Why must he have been so stupid? So reckless? If only he had said something sooner, back then. If only he had better sense to run away. 

_If only... If only..._

“Oh? You didn’t _know any better,_ did you?" Sneering, Rivers takes Richard’s erect member in hand. He strokes it, running his fingers all over it—taunting him, with the shameful evidence of his body's own depravity. "How'd you go about explainin' _this,_ then?”

Richard recoils, turning his head away.

“Admit it. Your body can’t lie, Dick. It _loves_ me. Loves havin’ your teacher take care of you like this. And as a teacher, who am I to deny what my star student wants of me?”

From within his pocket, Rivers pulls out a small packet. He tears it open, dribbling lubricant all over his hand, his fingers—getting every inch, every corner of it wet before palming at his own cock. 

“We have a lot of catchin’ up to do. _Ten years of it_. And since you obviously pretended to be sick just now, why don’t we start here? I’d love to be pumpin’ your tummy full of my _special medicine_ again. _For ol’ times sake.”_

Richard’s eyes widen at that. He takes to his frenzied thrashing again, straining against the ropes as searing panic floods his veins. 

“Please, _please,_ stop...! I don’t want this! I don't want to—!” 

He screams as Rivers penetrates him anyways, forcing his hole to stretch around him as he brutally shoves his way inside. The lube barely helps—he’s never dared to be intimate with anyone ever since, and as a result Rivers feels much, much too big to take like this. Even now, the man is only halfway in and already Richard is stuffed to the brim. He feels it much like being torn open and split in two, right down the middle. 

_“Fuck…_ You feel _so fuckin’_ _good_ around me, Dick…”

Richard’s body jolts with every thrust. His head lolls back and forth, sliding to and fro on the pillow, occasionally hitting against the headboard. Hollow gasps are forced from his lips with every inch forced deeper inside, as if the air there is being physically punched out of him to make room. 

”... So fuckin’ _tight_...”

He’s dizzy from it all. Lightheaded. The world around him starts fading around the edges, swimming in and out of focus. Every breath feels more and more sharp and labored, and he distantly wonders whether he might pass out from the lack of air altogether. 

Eventually Rivers bottoms out. He grips his hips tight as he holds himself in place, balls deep inside of Richard. With his palm, he traces the visible outline of his cock jutting out from within the young man’s body.

“There. Finally, _all in._ You’ve done so well, Dick—takin' all of me in so well. You really are my _star student_ after all,”Rivers murmurs. He gives a punctuated thrust, forcing yet another breathy gasp from the young man. “You’re suckin' me in so much here, too. Must’ve really missed havin' me inside of you, huh?”

Richard shudders, too weak to protest. Despite the pain Richard still finds himself just as aroused as before, his cock not even flagging once throughout. He's so ashamed—ashamed of how he had blindly landed himself in the clutches of this monster yet again. Ashamed of how he’s reacting no differently to Rivers even now, as an adult. No matter how badly he may want to, Richard himself can't deny the way his body is responding to the positive attention—the almost-comical way his nerves light up at the slightest praise from his former teacher.

Just as disgustingly eager for it as he had been, years ago.

“Mm, but what kind of teacher would I be if I'd neglect my own student?” The older man flashes him a toothy smile. “It’s not enough to just give you your _special medicine,_ clearly. If we _really_ want to have you all better...”

Rivers starts fucking him again. This time, however, he’s much slower in his pace. Careful, almost gentle even, as if aiming for something in particular. He's working himself into Richard—taking his time to explore different angles, feel out his insides, until eventually—

_Oh._

_Ohh—!_

  
Pleasure suddenly shoots through his spine. It has his trembling body arched back as far as the restraints would allow him. The sensation melts away at his frayed nerves, shorts out his brain with the sheer heat and pleasure of it all. From the corners of his vision, Richard swears he could see literal sparks of white.

Gasping shallowly, he slowly looks up at Rivers. He knows what’s happening to him—knows from experience what his former teacher plans to _do_ to him—and he prays to the God he no longer believes in that it’s somehow just not going to happen this time. That he's somehow going to be spared from it this time.

That his rapist doesn’t strip him of this last remaining thing he has.

"There we are,” Rivers sneers above him. The older man drags his tongue across Richard’s neck, licking a wet stripe up towards the shell of his ear. “That felt _good,_ didn’t it?"

Rivers merely chuckles when Richard shakes his head.

"Don’t lie, Dick. _I know it does._ You think I can’t see you, squirmin’ around my cock like it’s the best thing you’ve felt in the entire world?”

Rivers hits the same spot in him, again and again, as if to force his point. Richard is half-moaning, half sobbing as he's thrusting in and out of him at a relentless pace, much too overwhelmed to stop the filthy noises from slipping through his lips.

“God, look at you," his former teacher murmurs. "You may have grown up to be an even worse liar all these years, but some things sure never change, huh?”  
  


He can’t think. _He can’t think._ Any thoughts that might try and bubble up to the surface are almost immediately lost before they even get there—knocked out of him with each thrust, like the air from his lungs. It's hard to hear anything past the sound of his blood rushing loudly through his veins, and the slick, filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room does little to help. All the while his brain struggles to catch up, his body is on fire. The flames of arousal flickering in the pit of his stomach is stoked further and further, spiraling out of control until Richard is simply feverish with it. 

_  
“There, that’s it... What a good little slut for me._ You must really want your teacher to pump you full of my _special medicine again_ , don't you? Breed your tight cunt so well, make you _feel_ _so good..._ ”

Richard is helpless against the onslaught to his senses. He feels himself on the knife’s edge, muscles drawn tight as the cock shoving inside of him threatens to make him spill. Below, he could feel himself dripping all over his stomach, his thighs, with each sinful drag to his prostate. Richard shamefully tries to close his legs, but only succeeds in drawing more attention to them. 

“Oh? You’re gonna come for me soon, aren’t you?" He smiles when Richard shakes his head again. "Dishonest as ever, I see. Here—don't you worry. _Just let ol’ Mr. Rivers help you out with that...”_

A hand reaches down between his legs. Fingers smear his own fluids across his member—slowly coating the head of his cock with it, gently thumbing it right into his slit—all while the assault on his prostate only continues. The sensations of pain and pleasure coupled together this way is crushing, and before long, it sends him over the edge completely.

"That's it... _there we go..._ "

With a shout, Richard's orgasm is ripped unbidden from his body. He's coming harder than he's had in a long time: spilling ropes and ropes of white across both their bodies as his former teacher continues to fuck into his oversensitized body. 

He slumps, defeated, while Rivers finishes inside of him not long after. The older man is placing a kiss on his belly, his thighs—clearly enjoying every bit of the satisfaction he derives from taking Richard apart completely like this. 

"Now, now... there's no need to cry anymore," he murmurs. A thumb wipes the tears that silently flowed down his cheeks. "After all, we can finally play with each other again."

Rivers smirks as he kisses the broken young man on his bed. 

_"Welcome home, Dick."_   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how ridiculously long this chapter took to finish. I've had it in the back of my mind for such a long time, but it seems as though my shit brain is only capable of pumping out the right words when I am at the height of stress, and ONLY then :(
> 
> UPDATE (4/19/2020): I am marking this work as incomplete again because I have decided to work on this some more even though I have more unfinished works to tackle and could plausibly leave this finished here as is. Expect a new chapter by the end of the week!
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr at https://mothballs-and-benzene.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

Flipping her phone facedown on the coffee table, Katie sat alone in her empty living room and sighed. 

It’s not as if this was the first time Richard’s done something like this. She’s not even mad at that, per say—plans can always be remade if need be, and it’s not like they had planned for something extremely important that night. A heads up not to cancel dinner with Abby would have been nice, though. Something to let her know not to make the caramel popcorn that would only sit cold without him here. Hell, at this point, she’d settle for a single text back from him. She’s already given Richard seven chances for it; surely that can’t be too much to ask of him? 

Katie sinks back onto the couch, glumly picking off the buttered popcorn from her own bowl. She’s been friends with Richard ever since middle school, when she had been the odd one out transferring in at eighth grade when most kids had known each other from elementary. They had quickly bonded over the type of movies they had liked—a longstanding friendship that had clearly followed them even now as young adults, to where they would still come over and host movie nights for one another every now and then. 

But something’s changed about Richard, recently. Of course she can’t expect anyone to remain stagnant over the course of several years. But ever since three years ago he’s been scaring her with how differently he’s been acting. He’s overly jumpy and skittish, especially when it involves others touching him. Richard lost his head at Abby once, for hugging him unprompted—and while Abby had forgiven him for it since, the overreaction has left a sour taste between them. At times he would space out, like he’s somewhere in another dimension altogether. And, of course, he’s been isolating himself more and more too, cancelling and bailing on their plans like he’s doing right now. 

Most unnerving of all, however, she’s recently had reason to believe Richard had been harming himself for some time—and covering it up, no less. 

She’s not angry at him. Not really. She’s a little upset at the missed movie night, sure. But, more than that, she’s upset that her friend seems like he doesn’t trust her enough to tell her when he’s clearly hurting. She has no idea what could have happened in the last three years to have changed her friend so drastically, let alone how to go about helping him. He doesn’t seem to be talking about it to anyone else, but she’s afraid of further upsetting him by dredging it up in their own conversations. Lord knows what happened the last time she’s attempted it. The last thing she wants is to drive Richard away, but she knows this is never going to resolve on its own. 

She scrolls to the top of her contacts and decidedly calls him. When the machine inevitably answers her, she doesn’t bother leaving a message at the tone and simply hangs up. 

Katie buries her face in her hands, shaking her head. 

_ What is there left to do? _ She can’t forcibly help someone who refuses it at every turn. But seeing Richard struggling alone all this time is starting to eat away at her more than she thought. All she wants is to see her friend happy again. The movie nights once a month get them somewhat close to that, but it’s never quite the same anymore. 

She closes her contacts and absently scrolls through the rest of her phone. She stops her swiping midway only when her thumb hovers over a familiar orange tile in the right corner of the screen. 

The  _ Find My Friends _ application.

She’s only doing this to check on him. To make sure that, if he’s not doing well at the moment, at least he’s safe at home. He has no one else she can contact otherwise to make sure he’s okay. This is the only thing she can do right now, as a friend concerned about her friend’s wellbeing.

_ But wouldn’t this be a breach of his privacy?  _

She hesitates before ultimately opening it. 

Out of the number of little icons she finds clustered within the area, one faceless dot sticks out to her in the far northern part of the map. It’s in the shady part of the district: the part everyone’s heard stories about from a friend of a friend of a friend; the part she’s been warned many times never to go through alone late at night. 

A hundred possibilities fly through her head in that instant, and all of them do little to comfort. She feels a chill run up her spine after a particularly awful image of Richard collapsed in an alley after being assaulted by some thugs. 

_ It might just be an area he passes by on his way home from work. But it can’t be that he’s only getting home this late, can it? _

_ What business could he possibly have at this time, all the way out there?  _

_ What business is it of hers to know?  _

Regardless Katie can’t shake off the harrowing thought of her friend, stranded in the bad parts of town on his own and in desperate need of help. This may not be the first time Richard’s acting this way towards her, but she can’t imagine any good scenario in which he’s alright, all the way out there and this late at night. 

It’s too late for her to do anything else at this point, though. As much as she hates to admit it. Going out there now would not only be dangerous, but it would be brash and stupid of her as well. There’s no way she could accomplish anything productive at this late an hour, in those dark, unfamiliar streets. If Richard is even out in the streets right now and not in a building somewhere, or a vehicle, on his way home. No, right now the best thing to do would be to write down the address and pray for the best. If his phone is still located in the same area by the morning, then she’ll call Abby first thing and they can both go tomorrow to look for him. 

For now, it’s all she can do to resign herself to bed with a heavy weight on her chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who encouraged this degenerate work to continue ❤️
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr! https://mothballs-and-benzene.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Richard is already afoot. Somehow though, it still ends up working out for Rivers in the end.

The room he’s confined to is one Richard doesn’t recognize inside the house. It’s small, drab, and windowless—with a single old incandescent bulb left constantly on, casting an eerie yellow glow to the otherwise grey walls. He thinks he's been moved underground, probably the basement, judging by the set of stairs and how much colder this room feels to the rest of the building. There is no clock in sight from where he is chained to on the bed; no device he can use to somehow indicate the passing of time. There’s not much of anything else in the room, either—save for a dresser out of his reach across the room and a small bucket by the foot of the bed.

He tugs hard at his chains again, to no avail. 

Has it been hours? Days? Richard has nothing to go by, but it all feels nothing short of an endless fever dream. He knows every now and again he’ll lose chunks of time to sleep, but he has no idea how long they last for, or when one nightmare ends and reality begins. Nothing much feels real anymore, anyways. 

“I'm back, Dick.”

That is, of course, with the exception of Rivers’ visits.

He hears the all-too-familiar sound of the man’s voice before he's able to see his figure descending down the stairs. This time, Rivers is carrying with him a lunch tray, with what looks to be a sandwich, an apple, and a small carton of milk on top of it. Richard stiffens at the obvious resemblance to a school lunch presented to him. He silently glares at the tray in his hands, then up at the older man himself.

Rivers only chuckles at him. 

“Oh? Don’t give me such a sour look.” He sets down the tray by his side, smiling as he sits on the edge of the bed. “It ruins your pretty face.”

“I’ve already told you I’d be gone for a few errands. Why, did you miss your teacher already?”

Richard curls in on himself, as far away on the bed as he could from Rivers and the food. He may be hungry, but there’s no trusting a man like Rivers that this isn’t a part of some elaborate trap. He wouldn’t be surprised if any of it turned out to be drugged, anyways. He holds himself tightly, ignoring the pangs he feels in his stomach as the scent of fresh, warm grilled cheese inevitably makes his mouth water. 

“... I’m not hungry. Leave me alone.” 

“What? After all that I went through, to get my star student his favorite lunch?” Rivers scoffs. “I’m real disappointed in you, Dick. What’s happened to you these past ten years? You used to be such a good kid back when I looked after you.” 

“Looked after?” Richard turns around. He knows deep down that Rivers is baiting a reaction out of him, but his blood boils hot in his veins after everything he’s been through. “ _Looked after?_ You _raped_ me!”

“A pretty small price to pay for takin’ care of someone else’s brat, I’d say.” The man’s eyes darken as he crawls closer towards him on the bed, backing Richard slowly into a corner like the cowardly prey he is. 

“You’re nothing but a _monster_ ,” Richard spits out. “A small price? You.. you took so much of my life away. _Years…_ My innocence, my whole _childhood!_ Gone, because of you!”

“Your whole childhood was already shit. Isn’t that why you came runnin’ to ol’ Mr. Rivers? To feel cared for, for the first time? _Loved?_ It’s only fair I ask for somethin’ in return. Mommy and daddy certainly weren’t even doin’ that, _were they?”_

Richard shrinks back at that. The anger in him all but evaporates as his chest seizes painfully at the sudden, callous mention of his parents. 

The years of neglect he’s suffered, the constant arguments between his parents. _The eventual split that tore his family apart._ He hasn’t thought about them at all since he’s left it all behind him for college.

Having it all resurface like this while his rapist casually reminds him of his fuckups—it only forces Richard to rush for the bucket.

Rivers continues anyways, over the sound of his dry heaving. 

“ _Rape_ ? What’s all this nonsense about _rape_ from you out of nowhere? Of all people. I mean, I’ve known you to be a filthy little liar even back then, but don’t you do that to yourself, Dick. Don’t you lie to yourself like that.” He sneers as he leans forward, whispering in his ear. 

“Call it whatever you’d like. At the end of the day, we all know _who_ came to _who_ to beg for the attention he’s not gettin’ at home. _Who came to who to get his sweet little cunt all stirred up while mommy and daddy fought.”_

“Stop it,” Richard sobs as he shakes his head. He covers both of his ears with trembling hands. _“Stop it!”_

“You’ve forgotten after all these years, haven’t you.” Rivers wraps his arms around his naked waist from behind. “Shame. I thought I’d given you a good enough refresher when I’d shown you how honest your body could _really_ be last night.” His fingers stray downward, making their way towards his exposed crotch, as he brushes his lips against his ears.

“Should we try again now, then?”

Richard screams, jerking in his arms. “Stop! _Don’t touch me!”_

He grabs at the older man’s hands, trying desperately to pry them away from him. After some struggle between the two, however, Rivers eventually overpowers him, seizing him by the wrists. He is pinned faceup onto the bed as the older man begins to straddle his body. 

“I think I’ve finally figured out _who’s_ gotten you to become so _naughty_ after all these years,” he croons. Rivers smacks his lips together before licking a long, wet stripe down the side of his neck. “You’ve managed to snatch up a little beauty for yourself over the years, haven’t you? Lied and lied to the poor girl all this time, until eventually you've started believin’ in these lies yourself. _Abby,_ was it? Or did you prefer the little blonde one, _Katie?”_

_That_ has Richard frozen in a heartbeat. Rivers had never made any indication that he’s familiar with Katie, but, as far as he knew, Abby was someone Katie had met out in college. Richard stares up at him, a wide-eyed deer in the headlights, as he tries to stammer out a response.

“Oh?” Rivers sneers. “It’s the blonde then, isn’t it? I thought I recognized her. Who knew?”

“H-how… how did you…”

“They’re outside right now lookin’ for you. Heard them runnin’ around, callin’ your name out on the streets on my way doin’ errands,” the older man states, matter-of-factly. His expression morphs into something sinister as he sits and lets this information stew.

“How about... I let them both in here?”

“No…”

“Show them how you _really_ are when you’re bein’ honest with yourself—”

“No!”

“—Or better yet, why don’t I let them join in on the fun?” Rivers lets go of one of his wrists to tilt his head up with his thumb, gently tracing the edge of his jawline. “I’m sure you’d all have the time of your life here together. One big _happy_ family. Now, wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t that be nice, Dick?”

Richard shudders, shaking his head. There’s nothing else Rivers needs to say here. He understands perfectly well the threat bared underneath those words. 

He lowers his head, averting his gaze in submission.

“Please… don’t. I-I’ll be good from now on, I promise. Just… please, don’t get them involved. _Please_...”

“Now _there’s_ the good little star student I remember.” The older man lets go of his wrists.

“You want to be good for me from now on?” 

Richard nods. 

“Prove it, then. Show Mr. Rivers how _good_ and _honest_ you can be, Dick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what follows this. I know what follows this. :)
> 
> Tell me your thoughts on this one in the comments, or on my Tumblr if you prefer! https://mothballs-and-benzene.tumblr.com/


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard tries very hard to be good.

Richard closes his eyes. It takes nearly everything out of him just to get himself down onto his knees, in between the older man’s spread legs. Still, he duly ignores the trembling in his body, the ash sitting heavy on his tongue, as he manages an apology.

“I’m sorry for... for being so naughty, s-sir. Please forgive me... I’ll be better, I… I promise...”

He turns and looks up at Rivers, hesitant. 

“That's a decent start. That’s not all there is though, is it?” Rivers shrugs, looking unimpressed. "You must be even dumber than you were ten years ago, if you think a simple sorry’s going to make up for all the shit you’ve given me so far." 

Rivers starts to get up from off the mattress.

“Pity. I’m sure Katie and Abby would provide me with something more interesting than _this_. Give me a better reason I shouldn’t march on out right now and—”

“Wait!” Upon raising his voice Richard lowers his head, clenching his cold, clammy fists by the skin of his thighs. It’s not as if he has much of a choice, but the words that he goes on to say next still leave his mouth tasting like blood, even before they depart from his lips. 

“Please don’t do that, sir. Please, I.. I swear I... _I-I’ll do anything.”_

Rivers looks at him for a bit. Pondering. His expression is unreadable for the longest time, but eventually he breaks into a smile, chuckling. 

“How _sweet_ of you. A real gentleman! You must try real hard for that girlfriend of yours, don’t you Dick?” he croons, loosening his belt as he speaks. “Katie sure is one lucky gal.”

“Tell me, though—have you told her everything? Does she know yet, how much of a cum-thirsty slut you _really_ are?”

Richard averts his gaze. He tries not to show it in his expression just how deep those words had cut into him.

“... She's not... my girlfriend.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Rivers asks, genuinely amused. “Well, now that I think of it, I’m not at all shocked. You’ve taken to ridin’ dick like a duck takes to water, after all. Poor girl probably wouldn’t know what to do with a cockslut like you.” 

He unfastens his trousers and pulls out his half-hard cock, before sitting back down on the bed. 

“Now, come here then. You’ve promised me you’d do anythin’ to be _good_ from now on, haven’t you? Let’s test that with that fussy mouth of yours first. Here, I’ve even gone and done the hard work for you.”

That's right. He had already promised this to him—there’s no taking it back from here. Not that he can afford to be anything else but _good_ for Rivers anyways, at this point. For Katie’s sake. 

Though it wouldn’t have been enough for him to _be good_ by simply lying back and taking it, would it? To lie mindless on his back, while Rivers takes from his body what he wants—Richard almost prefers it, over this forced active role in what is already a humiliating violation against him.

Looking at the cock in front of him now, Richard feels sick. Feverish, even, as the skin he wears on him becomes much too hot all over. His flesh crawls as his hands hover over the prick—itching from deep within his tissues like a perpetual rash, far beyond his reach. His tongue lies thick and heavy in his mouth, a plug for the bile he feels rising in the back of his throat. 

The skin of his outer thighs burns, with how badly he wants them reopened. 

He swallows dryly. 

_No._ It doesn’t matter. None of his feelings hold any weight here. All he has to do is get over himself and do as he’s asked. 

He sucks in a breath in an attempt to steady his nerves, before wrapping his fingers around the older man’s cock. Richard takes the head of it on his tongue and sucks, giving small kitten licks on the underside every now and then as he slowly goes along his shaft.

Rivers moans, carding his fingers into his hair. “There, now… _that’s a good boy._ That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He presses his head down further, guiding him to take more inside until Richard can feel the full weight of his cock entering his mouth, lips stretched wide around its width. 

“Look at you. _My little star student._ I remember how you were, back then—barely able to fit half of your teacher in, what with that tiny little mouth.” He shifts himself on the mattress, bucking his hips and nearly making Richard choke. “You’ve grown so much over the years though, haven’t you? Wonder how much more you can take now, at this age?”

“Let’s find out.”

With no other warning than that, Rivers grabs him by the hair. He pulls him in, firm and unyielding against Richard’s frenzied thrashing as the older man forces his cock further down his throat. 

He can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe. 

His lungs. His ribcage _._

_He can’t breathe—!_

A steamroller terrorizes the insides of his chest. Pounding. Raging. Out of control. It presses and presses—flat against his organs, his lungs, against the brittle bone that holds them, until they’re fit to burst out of his dying chest. 

_Can’t breathe_.

He’s screaming, though no sound ever makes it past his diaphragm. 

_Can’t breathe..._

Fighting, though none of it ever makes a difference.

_Can’t…_

His vision swims, as does the rest of his surroundings.

Richard has no idea how long Rivers kept him pinned to him like this. All he knows is that by the end of it, he is cradled by a pair of solid arms, equal parts gasping and crying into them as he coughs on lungfuls of air. His face is caked in something sticky, but at this point he doesn’t have it left in him to care. He clings to the arms, clutching them as if his life depended on it.

“... rgive… me… p-please…” he gurgles out, sobbing. “... please… s-sir… for-give… me…”

He’s in shambles. Pieces. Each word he utters is a shard of glass that embeds itself deep into his raw throat. Despite that, however, Richard still does his best to beg for Rivers’ mercy here—so terrified is he of further incurring whatever anger had brought on such brutality. 

“It’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay,” Rivers smiles, hushing him. He rocks the limp body in his arms, soothing and gentle-like. “You were such a good boy for me, Dick. You did so well; I’m so proud of you.”

“Still... you’ve promised me you’d do _anythin’_ to be good from now on, haven’t you? Don't fall asleep yet, Dick—we’ve got a long way to go before we’re finished here.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Richard, and its conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before this chapter begins, I want to start off with a quick PSA. This is something I usually never do at the start of my fics, but I feel that this subject is important because of the common misconceptions that surround it and the potential for danger it has. 
> 
> YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WAIT 48 HOURS (OR EVEN 24 HOURS) TO REPORT A MISSING PERSON! If you are in the US and you suspect someone you know to be missing, please immediately alert the proper authorities, either in person or over the phone. If the person is 18 or older, contact local authorities. If the person is a child, call 911. The characters in this work do not do this because they believe in a MYTH—a MYTH I do not want any of you to propagate in a REAL situation. 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone, and please enjoy ❤️

“Katie.”

“...”

“Katie!”

“...!”

She’s brought back from her racing thoughts and into reality as she hears her name shouted a second time. Katie stops her search to look around her, realizing just then that her friend hadn’t yet caught up. 

She finds Abby trailing behind, jogging to meet her with her phone held out in her hand.

“Katie, hey! Wait up. You _need_ to see this... _”_

Katie takes the phone from her as she’s handed it, shielding her own eyes as she does. On any other day, she wouldn’t hesitate to complain to her friend about going blind every time she shows her something on her device, what with how ridiculously high Abby loves to turn up the brightness. She withholds it this time—silently working to adjust to it as she holds it up to her face.

“... What?"

"But wait... here Richard is… he’s…”

_He’s not here?_

“It’s not on _this_ side. Our side. According to the app here his phone should be around this area, but on the _other_ street across from us,” Abby states, with a grim look on her face. “I hadn’t checked on my phone until now because I had taken your word for it when you called me.” 

She was sure it had been here this morning, when she had last checked. Has the signal moved since then? 

From her bag, Katie pulls out her own phone and logs into the app. To her dismay, the signal she sees on her device is also broadcasted from the same street Abby had pointed out. 

“I can’t believe it…” 

Abby grabs her phone back and slips it inside of her pocket. “C’mon. It’ll be alright. We’ll head over right now and start looking there. It’s not far from where we are, so we can just walk from here.”

Katie grabs her arm, stopping her friend in her tracks. 

“Abby, wait. I… I want us to keep looking here.”

It’s not as if she has any reason to doubt her friend now, or insist in wasting precious time here with the evidence at hand. Every second matters here, and she knows she’s already wasted plenty by doing nothing overnight. If she is truly wrong about this call, it will only spell danger for Richard—wherever he might be. 

Yet, somehow, she can’t shake off the gut feeling she has.

Telling her to keep looking for him _here,_ of all places _._

“I just have a feeling, that’s all. I mean, what if it’s just the wi-fi? What if the connection is worse here, and it’s messing with the app’s tracking?”

It’s not an implausible argument. In places with worse internet, she’s seen before how spotty and unreliable GPS can become—sometimes spanning from two, even three buildings off in its accuracy. Perhaps it’s the brownstone houses here, stacked next to one another like a towering wall of homes, that may play a role in disrupting the signal. 

Still, it leaves Abby unconvinced. 

“Katie, we’ve looked through most of this street already and we can’t find any sign of him so far. Let’s just cut our losses and try the next street over.” She pats her shoulder, gently. “It’ll be okay. It may not be too late. If we go now, we might still be able to find him there.”

Katie looks at Abby, then down at her own phone. 

She noticed that the signal’s location has not been updated for a few minutes now, even though the latest update had all but guaranteed real-time tracking. It can’t hurt to try refreshing the app first before they leave, she figures. Just to be sure. Katie swipes down on her screen—expecting for the signal to remain where it is now, or perhaps even come back, if her previous theory had been correct.

Instead, the faceless dot had moved to another part on the map entirely. 

Two streets from where they are now, this time. 

Katie swipes down again. And again. And again. While the signal remains broadcasted from the same street, it shifts down little by little with each refresh of the app.

“Abby, it’s…”

_“... on the move.”_

They don’t say anything to each other after that. There’s no time. Together they make a run for it, frequently swiping down on their phone screens as they head for the new location. 

Whatever strange inclination she had before has left her entirely. Instead, what fills her chest in its place is a heady mix of suspense, fear, and excitement—hope. _He's here. He's on the move._ Those two thoughts carry her across the asphalt, faster and further than she's ever run before. 

Her lungs feel strong; her body light. She sprints onward, feeling unstoppable as she flies past Abby, the incoming vehicles. 

Nothing else has mattered more in her life than this one single moment. 

She can almost be certain of it now, what happened to Richard—and she’s this close to catching the culprit behind it. Just another crosswalk here. Just another block up ahead. Whatever the license plate number, whatever the model: Katie will find them, and bring them to justice for what they’ve done to her friend. She’ll finally get to bring him home, after all of this.

Katie picks up the pace. She makes the sharp turn into the street, even almost spraining an ankle in doing so. 

Instead of pressing forward here, however, she grinds to a halt.

“...”

A hulking, ugly beast of metal blocks the road—shrieking as it hauled and heaped onto itself this week’s garbage from the piles on the curb. She watches the bags of rubbish disappear into the maw of the truck, one by one. And in that very instant, all the pieces suddenly fit. 

There is no car. 

_There is no Richard._

Katie drops to her knees. Stunned. The wind had been knocked right out of her, leaving her breathless, paralyzed. Hunched over the ground, as the blood in her body runs cold. 

Her phone falls faceup next to her—the faceless dot on the map standing right where she kneels on the concrete. 

The truck shrieks as it moves forward, collecting more of the waste rotting on the side of the road. By the time her friend had caught up to her, Katie too shrieked along with it. 

“Katie… what…”

“Call the police.”

“Wait, but isn't it still too ear—”

“He’s gone, Abby! _Call the police!”_


	7. Interlude: Missing Persons Report

**PAGE 1 OF 1**

**STATE OF █████**

**DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE**

**CJIS ███**

**MISSING PERSON REPORT**

**Pursuant to Penal Code §█████**

* * *

**☑** Adult ☐ Child **Date and Time of Last Contact:** 3/15/2018; 10AM (Mobile) **Report Number: ██████████**

* * *

**Report Type: ☐** Voluntary Missing Adult ☐ Runaway ☐ Parental/Family Abduction ☐ Dependent Adult **☑** Unknown Circumstances ☐ Stranger Abduction ☐ Suspicious Circumstances ☐ Catastrophe ☐ Lost 

**Category (Special Handling): ☐** Prior Missing **☐** Sexual Exploitation **☐** Urgent Case **☐** Abducted During a Crime **☐** Amber Alert 

**☐ At Risk, Describe:** N/A

* * *

**MISSING PERSON INFORMATION:**

**Name (Last, First, Middle):** Carson, Richard **Alias/Nickname:** "Richie"; "Rich"

 **Sex:** **☑** Male ☐ Female 

**DOB/Age:** 6/4/1994 (23 years old)

 **Race:** ☐ A - Asian ☐ B - Black ☐ H - Hispanic, Latin, or Mexican ☐ I - American Indian **☑** W - White ☐ X - Unknown

 **Height:** 5'7 (170cm) **Weight:** 120lbs

 **Eye:** Light Brown **Hair:** Dark Brown 

**Facial Hair:** None **Scars/Marks/Tattoos:** None 

**Clothing:** Unknown **Jewelry:** None

 **Residence Address, City, State, Zip Code:** **██████████** **██████████**

**Residence Phone Number:** **██████████**

 **Social Security Number:** Unknown 

**Email Address:** **███████@** gmail.com 

**Cell Phone Number:** **██████████**

 **Social Networking Sites and Screen Names:** Richard Carson (Facebook); @ **████** (Twitter); @ **████** **█** (Instagram)

 **Drivers License/ID Number:** Unknown

 **Last Known Location/Activity:** **██████████** **█████████** (Lab Assistant at **██████** )

 **Possible Destination:** Unknown

 **Alcohol, Drug, Mental Health, or Medical Condition:** None 

**Known Associates:** Katherine Miller (friend); Abigail Hewitt (friend); Andrea Walker (employer at **██████** )

* * *

**SUSPECT INFORMATION (If Applicable):** N/A

 **Name (Last, First, Middle):** **Alias/Nickname:**

**Sex:** ☐Male ☐ Female **Race:**

**DOB/Age:**

**Relationship to Missing Person:**

**Height:** **Weight:**

**Eye:** **Hair:**

**Facial Hair:** **Scars/Marks/Tattoos:**

**Clothing:**

**Address, City, State, Zip Code:** **Phone Number:**

* * *

**REPORTING PARTY:**

**Name (Last, First, Middle):** Miller, Katherine **Alias/Nickname:** Katie

 **Sex:** ☐Male **☑** Female **Race:** White

 **DOB/Age:** 1/21/1995 (23 years old) 

**Relationship to Missing Person:** Friend

 **Address, City, State, Zip Code:** **██████████** **██████████** **P** **hone Number: ██████████**

* * *

**Reporting Officer:** Paul Robertson **ID/Badge#:** **██████████**

 **Date:** 3/21/2018

* * *

**NARRATIVE:**

At 4:47 PM on March 17, 2018, Katherine Miller and her friend Abigail Hewitt made a call to the **████████** County Sherriff's Department to report their friend Richard Carson missing.

Katherine said she had last contacted Richard through texts on March 15, 2018 at 10AM, in order to confirm plans they had made in advance. Katherine indicated that Richard was scheduled to come over her house at 8:00PM the following day, hours after he had returned from work at **██████**. According to Katherine, Richard never made it to her house as scheduled that Friday. Calls and texts to his mobile phone have gone unanswered, and voicemail messages have not been returned. Neither Katherine nor Abigail had reported hearing anything about Richard any time since.

Neither Katherine nor Abigail have made any contact with Richard's employer, Andrea. No contact information for Andrea is made available to us at this moment. 

Richard Carson is a 23 year old man who resides in an apartment complex located at **█████████** **█████████** , in **██████**. Richard has been estranged from family at the age of 18 and has lived alone since with absolutely no contact. Outside of Katherine and Abigail, Richard does not seem to have any other close contacts that might know of his whereabouts. There is also a history of unexplained absences and/or failure to contact others on Richard's part that suggests this behavior may not be out of the norm. 

Katherine and Abigail had last traced the location of his cell phone to **█████** Street in **████████, ██████** , on the day they filed this missing person report for him. The phone in question is suspected to have been picked up by garbage disposal at around that time and has gone offline. 

Four days later, at around 7PM, the office at our department had received a call from Richard Carson through an unregistered phone. Richard had confirmed his identity to us by providing his personal information over the call. From this call, our department was able to conclude that Richard is safe and in good health, and had went off on his own volition to take care of personal matters. The type of report on file for Richard had since been reclassified by our office as "Voluntary Missing Adult". 

This concludes the missing person case filed for Richard Carson. Search and rescue efforts have been halted. No further action taken at this time is necessary. 

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

It has to have been weeks, at this point. The repeated abuse; the unyielding humiliation, heaped onto his decaying body and beaten into his fractured mind with every increment of time that passes. 

Over and over and _over again_. 

Richard had tried keeping track of it. A way to measure his stay, in this otherwise never-ending hell. But the exercise quickly proved itself useless after a while, when even he can’t be sure of its accuracy—not with the older man’s penchant for raping him unconscious, anyways. The truth, he’s realized bitterly, is that no matter how many times he’s suffered Richard is nowhere near closer to the end than he was at the very start. If anything, each count only served to solidify the helplessness of his situation: giving him an increasing figure for his brain to latch onto, while providing no real meaning or end in sight.

He stopped somewhere, after 17.

The door unlatches. The sound of it opening and closing rouses him from sleep, dragging him back into the land of the living. Richard groans as he wakes up to immense pain all over his body: hurt after terrible hurt after Rivers’ latest few visits, piled atop one another just beneath his skin, deeply buried within his tissues. One by one, they seize the muscles in his throat, his limbs, his torso, his chest. His lower half. Each part clamors over one another for his attention—taking turns to scream at him as if Richard could stand to do anything about them. As if merely lying conscious on the mattress, waiting for the inevitable, is not in and of itself a battle he’s sorely losing.

Wrapped in his own thoughts, Richard barely registers the hefty thumping down the stairs—too weighty and heavy footed a sound for it to be Rivers. He’s too busy mentally preparing for another few hours of having his body played with, he doesn’t even bother looking up at the hulking figure descending the staircase until it hovers directly over him.

“Richard?”

He cracks open his eyes.

“Are you Richard Carson?”

The large, intimidating man was dressed in black, in what looks to Richard to be some sort of uniform and matching jacket. The man takes one good look around the room before turning his head and talking to a device strapped onto his right-hand shoulder, tucked away almost completely by the large jacket. On his left, a silver badge sits above his breast pocket, gleaming under the pale yellow lighting of the room. 

Richard balks at the sight of him. His heart pounds, fearing the sudden surge of hope threatening to overtake his body. He opens his mouth to answer the man, but eventually settles for a shaky nod when the words refuse to tumble out of him. 

“Well, Richard,” the man says, crouching down to his eye-level. “I’m Officer Robertson, from the local county sheriff's department. Your friends, Katherine and Abigail, had called our office a few weeks ago and we’ve been on the case to find you since. I’m here to bring you back where you belong.” 

His breath stutters. Soft and slow, like a repressed sob from deep within his chest. Richard stares at the officer for the longest time, refusing to even blink for fear that the man will disappear and it will all be some cruel dream he has yet to wake from. 

_It can’t… be._

_He’s…_

“Are you hurt anywhere, Richard? In any immediate pain I should know of?” The officer purses his lips, grimacing at the sight of the large, ghastly bruises mottling the skin around his neck, chest, and thighs. “Can you try sitting up for me?” 

Richard tries his absolute hardest. He attempts to move his arms, his legs—anything he can leverage to get himself up. But despite his best efforts, his exhausted body refuses to budge even a muscle for him. Richard cries out in frustration. How long has he been locked up here that Rivers had done _this much_ to him? _He can’t even sit up._

Tears start to well up in his eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” the man says, reassuringly. “You stay right there, alright? I’m going to get you out of here, Richard; we’ll be out of here soon.”

Mr. Robertson inspects the chains binding his wrists to the bedpost. He gives it a good tug, before fumbling around for something in his pants. 

“I can try to cut this chain if this doesn’t work, but I did find something while I was searching around the area.” He pulls out a ring of keys from within his left pocket. “I didn’t find anybody upstairs, but I did find this near the door. Do you know who has you here? Do you know where they might be right now?” 

Richard nods, then immediately shakes his head. He realizes for the first time that he has no idea where Rivers heads off to after his visits. Up until now, he hadn’t even been aware the man had left the house.

It had been awhile since his last visit, Richard figures; perhaps Rivers had heard news that the police were coming for him and had fled the premises beforehand, abandoning him altogether. 

“R… Ri..vers…” 

“Rivers? Is that his name?” The officer tries out the various keys on the ring, until he finds a tarnished silver one that works. He inserts the right one into the keyholes on the cuffs, freeing Richard’s wrists. 

“There we are. Now, do you have any clothes here? Or know anywhere we can get you clothes from?”

He shakes his head, blushing. He’s been left here without clothes for so long, he had almost forgotten... 

The thought of that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Okay, then...” Mr. Robertson shrugs his jacket off of him, and offers it to Richard. “How's that? It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.”

The man guides him up on the bed, slowly, before helping him into his jacket. Richard’s nothing but grateful for it, even if the jacket’s scratchy fleece lining chafes at his sore, sensitive nipples. 

“Thank you… s-sir…”

Mr. Robertson nods, standing up. 

“From here, I think it’s best I carry you out. You can’t stand up now, can you Richard?”

He shakes his head. There’s no point in wasting time embarrassing himself in front of the officer again. 

“That’s alright.” The officer hoists his body up with ease, placing Richard firmly across both his shoulders in a proper fireman’s carry. “Up you go, then.”

He doesn’t even care that the officer’s grip on his thighs is too firm to be comfortable. Richard stares at the basement room he’s leaving behind, growing further and further away as they climb up the stairs, until it’s out of sight altogether. The door closes—closing this chapter in his life for good. 

He’s free. He’s finally _free_.

Mr. Robertson makes his way across the house until he reaches what is presumably the front door. To Richard’s surprise, it is pitch black when they take their first few steps outside. It wasn’t as if he knew what time it was, but somehow Richard was expecting there to be some sunlight still by the time they headed out. The moonless sky tonight is almost suffocating in its darkness, and he feels a sense of unease as the officer continues on walking unfazed.

“Officer..?” 

Before he can even think to ask, Richard feels himself suddenly lifted off the man’s shoulder. He grunts upon impact, back slamming down onto something soft. 

His brain short circuits as he realizes what it is. 

“Officer, no… !!”

He shouts as his jacket is brusquely ripped off of him. A pair of hands cradles his head, placing it onto what feels like a pair of thighs, while a different pair goes to grab both his arms. Richard could practically feel the blood curdling in his veins when the cold metal encases his wrists, cuffing them tightly to one another. 

A tongue presses against his exposed skin, slithering up his neck. Breathing heavily against his ear. 

_“You didn’t think you’d be gettin’ away so easily from me, did you Dick?”_


	9. Chapter 9

The light switches on. A single lightbulb flickers dimly from one end of the room, casting odd, terrifying shadows across the faces of his two predators. 

“Oh? Why, just look at that face,” Robertson coos, climbing onto the bed with them. “He really _did_ fall for it. _Just like you said he would._ ”

Richard shakes his head. Trembling. He can’t process any of the events unfolding before him as anything but a dream: some horrible figment born of his subconscious mind. How else can evil like this exist otherwise? How else can he rationalize to himself ever deserving of such a thing?

Yet—in all of his time here, and with all of his nightmares—he knows none were so cruel as to torment him like _this_ before. There is something beyond vile at play here, something that surpasses even the extent of Richard’s wildest imagination.

He understands even then, deep down, that this is one nightmare he’ll never wake up from.

“Cute little thing you have there, Andrew. You should’ve _seen_ him. The kid was practically melting in my arms—all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, thinking he would finally get to run away from you.” 

“Is that so..?” Rivers croons, running his fingers in Richard’s hair. “What a pity. And here I thought you’ve promised to be _good_ for me from now on.”

Rivers sighs—a hint of eagerness in his expression that does not go unnoticed. His gray eyes lock with the pair of fearful ones looking up at him.

“You’ve disappointed me again, Dick. You do know what has to happen now, don’t you? Let’s find out what happens to naughty little boys who go on breakin’ their promises, tryin’ to sneak away...”

The dam bursts, upon hearing this imminent threat. The tears Richard worked so hard to hold back comes streaming down his face, all at once. It’s not the first Rivers has levied against him in all this time, but Richard knows him far too well to doubt the validity of his intent—or the severity of his actions. 

“... Mr. R-Rivers… p… please! I… I d-didn’t mean to…! I’ll be… good… please….”

Both Robertson and Rivers only chuckle at his outburst.

“You hear that? Poor thing didn’t _mean_ it,” he insists, pinching his tear-stained cheeks. The officer licks away at Richard’s tears, wearing a smile on his face that betrays just how much he’s savoring this moment. “Did you, Richie? You were just trying so hard to be good. You didn’t _mean_ to break your promise, did you?”

Richard shakes his head, sniffling. Between the men surrounding him, he can’t be sure yet who was the more sadistic of the two. Still, Richard can’t help but to gravitate towards the saccharine poison, clinging to any bit of softness he can get. 

He certainly can’t afford to get on the other’s bad side now—not after having upset Rivers this badly. 

“He’ll get the wrong idea if you keep spoilin’ him like that, Paul. Wouldn’t want the boy thinkin’ he can get away with anything now, just by battin’ his eyes and utterin’ a little apology.”

“You may be right there…” Robertson hums, considering the possibilities in his head. “... but I have a feeling that a bit of _tenderness_ will work better to teach this one.”

“What do you think, Andrew? _Should we…?”_

After a few seconds of silence between them, Robertson and Rivers both break into laughter. Watching their eerie grins, illuminated by the faint lighting, it’s as if their lighthearted banter were only part of some coordinated performance Richard has no script for. He’s left to let his imagination run wild, guessing at what they could have in store for him as both men take their time undressing.

“Why, you bring up a good point,” Rivers says, chuckling. He lifts him off his lap, propping Richard’s head atop a few pillows before sliding off his own trousers. “I think we _should_ . After all, I should know just how much my little star student here craves love and _tenderness_ more than anything in the world.” 

Rivers grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He dribbles a generous amount onto himself, palming his own cock to hardness.

“Alright, Dick. We’ll give you one more chance to do right by us. Why don’t you show us a good time, to demonstrate how sorry you are for tryin’ to run away?”

“All you’d have to do is have us finish,” Robertson chimes in. “Put that mouth and hole of yours to good use, while you reflect on what you’ve done. If you do a good enough job, we’ll forgive you. That should be easy enough, for a star pupil like you?”

Before Richard could think to respond, however, Rivers cuts him off.

“Not so fast, Dick. There’s just one more thing…”

Rivers brushes a lubed finger against Richard’s flaccid dick, running it across the tip and drawing a shiver from him. 

“See this? This right here?” He leans in close, whispering into his ear. “I want you to keep it just like this until we’re all finished. _No having fun yet until we’re done with you._ We all know how much of a cockslut you are, but this is _us_ givin’ _you_ another chance. 

“Consider this your only warnin’, Dick. If you come before either of us, I’m personally doublin’ your punishment from before. Understand?”

Richard swallows. Knowing Rivers, there’s no way he’d make something like this easy—but he can’t help feeling a little hopeful despite himself. It’s not like he _wants_ any of this, anyways. The thought of either of them makes him ill. And even if his traitorous body decides it has other plans, lasting longer than two middle-aged men shouldn’t be that difficult either. If this is what it takes to avoid another one of Rivers’ punishments, it’s certainly not the worst situation he could possibly find himself in. 

He nods slowly, throat going dry.

“Now there’s a good boy…” Robertson murmurs, stroking his face. “I can see why you’re still Andrew’s favorite student, after all these years.” 

The officer grabs his black uniform from the discarded pile of clothes on the bed. Before Richard could tell what he was planning to do, Robertson had rolled up the shirt and placed it over his eyes—fastening it into a makeshift blindfold.

With how securely the cloth is tied around his head now, Richard could no longer see a thing. 

“Wha—”

“Shh… It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over, Richie.” 

He feels a finger gently placed onto his lips. 

“You want to show us how sorry you are, don’t you? Why don’t you start right here then, with that lovely mouth of yours?”

The finger works its way in. Richard does his best, licking and suckling on the digit, turning it over and under around his tongue. One finger becomes two, which eventually becomes three and four in his mouth. With his vision gone, it was hard not to get lost in the sensation of it—sucking blindly for some time like that, as if these fingers were Richard’s only connection to the world outside his blindfold.

“There you go… Just like that. Doesn’t this feel good? It’s so much better when you let go and obey…” 

He’s almost lulled into a sense of complacency this way, because the feeling of rough hands on his hips catches him by surprise. His legs are hoisted atop what he thinks is Rivers’ shoulders and, before he could think to react, Richard suddenly feels the twitching, wet head of the man’s prick pressed against his entrance. 

“Wait no, _not y—”_

His next words are lost to him as Richard cries out, throwing his head back as the head of his cock pops past the tight ring of muscle. He’s panting, breathing heavily through his open mouth as he feels himself stretching and stretching impossibly around Rivers, who slides inside him in one slick thrust.

Within seconds, he’s become so unbelievably _full._

Richard moans, feverish and sick. It’s so much. _It’s so much._ The feel of cock against his walls, the way his hole flutters and tenses around the wide girth—he’s forced to feel every bit of it, in far more detail and clarity than the night he’s lost his innocence. He rolls his eyes back behind the blindfold as he feels Rivers slowly pressing in, further and further until the man eventually bottoms out. Somehow, without being able to see for himself, Richard could picture the older man now: balls deep inside of him, jutting obscenely out of his stomach as he fills it to the brim. 

In all the times he had been taken by Rivers, never once had he felt anything remotely like the way he feels now, blindfolded and stretched wide around his prick. It fills him so much, so completely, that it leaves him speechless—no room for words, thoughts, or anything else. By the time he realizes it’s only his lack of sight playing tricks on his senses, it’s much too late for him.

Richard is already hard, cock swelling and twitching to life in between his legs. 

“Oh? What’s this now?” Rivers drawls. He wraps his fingers around his shaft, rubbing his thumb mercilessly against the head. “We’ve only just started, and you’re already gaggin’ for it here. _Little slut._ If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just _beggin’_ to be punished.”

Next to him, Robertson chuckles. The man pulls his fingers out from within his mouth, using them instead to pry his jaw open. Holding his head steady in his hands, he slides his length inside of Richard’s mouth nice and slow. 

“I suppose you were right after all, Andrew. The kid cries and protests around you, but slips into his role just fine at the end of the day. No need for foreplay at all with this one; eager little thing. I’m even willing to bet he’d done it just for the punishment all along.”

Richard’s a mess; inside and out. Tears stream down his cheeks as he sucks and rocks his hips back and forth, doing his best to keep pace and pleasure both men while desperately holding his own at bay. Between the perpetual darkness and the mind-numbing assault on both his holes, however, it’s getting harder to even remember why. 

He can hear voices around him talking, but none of the words make any sense in his ears.

He keeps trying to remember something, but it slips away from his mind with each hit to his prostate. 

Every thrust, every drag against his tongue, his insides, is only made that much _more_ in this overwhelming darkness—magnified tenfold until he feels little more than simply a mouth and a hole to fuck. 

Everything feels hazy. 

His mind’s in pieces.

Before long, there’s nothing left of him but his basest responses. His tongue laps up the salty, musky taste of the officer inside his mouth. His hips grind against the older man, mindlessly chasing his own orgasm. He groans, delirious, as he feels his own cock heavy and leaking with precum—ready to burst at a moment’s notice.

“Are you going to come, Dick? Do you want to be a naughty boy and come before us?”

Richard nods, head lolling back and forth on the bed. 

He moans as hands roam freely about his body, stroking at his nipples, his cock, and every erogenous zone in between. There’s no place they touched that hadn’t felt electrifying on his skin, burning his nerves raw with sheer bliss. He’s gasping with each stab of pleasure thrust into him, each little drag closer to throwing him off the edge. By the time the blindfold is pulled off of him, his eyes are rolled back to his head—little strips of white on his otherwise blank expression.

The shock of spilling his brains out is the last thing he feels.


End file.
